


Through Pestilence and Strife

by Project0506



Series: Soft Wars [118]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Brothers being assholes, Fluff, Humor, M/M, brothers being brothers, chatfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:47:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26492155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506
Summary: Cody is trying his best, his absolute best, to romance his extremely attractive Jedi.  Little brothers are the precise opposite of helping.  Chatfic.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Soft Wars [118]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683775
Comments: 56
Kudos: 588





	1. Ponds

Cody’s backed his Jedi up under the narrow overhang sluicing rainwater in silvery ribbons over his shoulder. The roughcast wall scratches teasingly under his palms and flyaway red hair tickles at the bare slip of skin between his gloves and sleeves. There isn’t space for two, really and funny how that isn’t an obstacle in Cody’s mind. Chest to chest, guilessly sunshine smile to thunderingly sardonic eyebrow.

“Can’t have you catching a chill. _Sir_. Who would take command?”

“Oh is that what this is? Commitment to duty?”

“Very committed,” Cody murmurs. “Can’t be any less, when ‘duty’ is so … compelling.”

Obi-Wan tries, so hard, not to grin at that. “I do believe your come-ons are getting worse Commander.”

“Suppose I need more practice. Know anyone who’d be up for training?”

“Well you know, Master Fisto _is_ -”

Cody groans, low and heavy and exaggerated. Obi-Wan will deny his giggle, and that’s the only reason Cody’s made sure to record it. The only reason. It’s only too bad he’s left his bucket. His wrist comm can only get sound.

“So _cold_ , mesh’la,” he complains. “When I’m trying so hard to warm you up.”

“ _Terrible_ ,” Obi-Wan chides but it could be the name or the come-on or the nose Cody’s nudged under the warmth of his ear. Difficult to tell.

It’s too late for partiers and troublemakers to still be out, and far too early for the rest. The dark of predawn mists silver ethereal where droplets impact duracrete. Streetlights and signs flicker like void-viewed stars in the rain. Cody has hair slowly curling drenched to the back of his neck and breath of his lover curling hot on the front. The wicked edge to his smile is the most delicious thing Cody’s seen all day, and he finds himself very inclined to try a taste. Obi-Wan doesn’t seem inclined to object.

Cody’s wrist comm chimes.

Once. Then again.

“No,” Cody declares companionably and Obi-Wan’s giggle is sadly far less endearing this time.

“What was that about duty my dear?”

It earns quite as sour look as Cody can manage from less than an inch away. “I’d like to think I have my hands full at the moment.” He taps those surprisingly solid shoulders for emphasis, doesn’t waste a second marveling at the way they fill his palms, of course not. “Surely _someone_ else can handle -”

A chime, as if specifically to interrupt him. Deep, calming breaths.

“Give it to the Force, darling,” Obi-Wan drawls.

Priority  Alert

Ponds: Great news everyone!

There are, Cody muses, some very subtle signs that Ponds exhibits when he’s about to blatantly misuse the chat. Obi-Wan taps his wrist and Cody obediently twists so they can both read. A rolling noise of amusement rumbles deep in the Jedi’s chest and up wonderfully against Cody’s. He just wishes the oncoming doom didn’t make it impossible to enjoy.

Priority Response

Ponds: Our family is growing!

Priority Response

Rex: Pass my congratulations on to Fox.

Priority Response

Ponds: What?

The amusement shuffles to indignation. “That is cheating. _Surely_ that’s cheating.”

“I tried to warn you. Rex’ika is an asshole.”

Obi-Wan slides from his grip, glaring betrayed at the holographic evidence that Rex is and always was willing to cheat to win. “You keep saying that but he always seems so lovely.”

“He was nice to you,” Cody corrects, “and he generally fakes polite well. But there was only so much I could do to mitigate Wolffe’s influence on him.”

“Wolffe is also lovely. You adore him.”

Only one of those things is true.

Priority Response

Ponds: What does Fox have to do with anything?

Priority Response

Rex: Nothing Ponds. I must have read that wrong.

Priority Response

Wolffe: _ Kot _1, Fox.

Priority Response

Ponds: What?

“Your brothers are all lovely,” Obi-Wan lies with intent, as if to force the words true, “but they are all uniquely aggravating.” Obi-Wan’s lost the pot on Ponds and Fox months ago; he really has no reason to still be invested save for habit. And the free entertainment, naturally.

Cody presses a quiet kiss to his temple. “Give it to the Force,” he murmurs and doesn’t regret the pinch to the armpit it earns him.

Priority Response

Ponds: Fox whatever it is tell me later. Right now I have news! Bly’s going to be a dad!!!!

Obi-Wan’s hand closes near-bruise tight on Cody’s wrist. Cody’s private comm link lights up in a scream of incoming messages.

Priority Response

Ponds: That’s all I wanted to say. Everyone have a good night!

Priority  Alert Deactivated


	2. Chapter 2

“Thought you were gonna spend the night out there boys. A little cozy, were you?”

“I was beginning to wonder the same,” Obi-Wan drawls and the sheepish Cody musters to combat his droll hasn’t even a touch of sincerity.

“Oh those _eyes_ ,” FLO titters, and Obi-Wan wonders if Cody even realizes what he does. He ducks his head, grins up through those long dark lashes and glows under curls shining damp in the fluorescent. He is, body and soul, a young man in ways he rarely allows himself to be anywhere but here and in either of their quarters. “You have yourself some trouble here, Mr. Jedi.”

“I’ve never been trouble in my life,” Cody lies, and Obi-Wan knows he’s more than fast enough to dodge the towel she flicks.

There are some people that are pro-clone. There are some that are _good_ to vode, and Cody never forgets. He gathers them up in his heart, Obi-Wan knows, and the less they expect recompense the more he determines he will repay their kindness the moment he’s able.

He sees the galaxy in balances and favors, Cody. For good or ill.

“Well I’m glad you managed to pry yourself away long enough to not commit a misdemeanor. I’m sure the Guard misses having you for cell sleepovers.”

“That only happened once, and they started it.”

Dex created a space where Vode are welcomed, wanted, treated with warmth. But nights, late, when the duties of the Council and Command have been dispensed with and they come in search of food and privacy, when Dex has already retired to attend to organic inefficiencies…

Dex created a space where Vode can be people. FLO created a space where Cody can be a vod.

Years of stress and sternness roll from his face. The words he keeps close to himself roll a little freer, lighter. He smiles, not the smirk he’ll use with Boil or Crys. Closer to the one he’ll use with his brothers or Obi-Wan himself but different even then. It’s boyish, mischief and incidental charm and Obi-Wan hoards the sight of it in his own heart.

Maybe, on nights like tonight, Obi-Wan understands the impetus to repay kindness for kindness.

“This a ‘pick your own’ kinda day honey? Or you want a Trooper Special?”

“Special please,” he says and Obi-Wan carefully spools the urge to protest away and off. They’ve spoken of it occasionally, enough that it’s best they agree to not do so anymore. Obi-Wan may wish all he’d like that Cody would exercise his ability to choose when it’s presented, it will not change the fact that Cody finds it tiring and overwhelming and will sometimes avoid it in his personal interactions.

It isn’t failure, Obi-Wan reminds himself once and again. He hasn’t failed; Cody knows he can make the little choices, knew it long before Obi-Wan was ever a factor. He chooses not to, sometimes, and that isn’t Obi-Wan’s failure.

“I think I’ll do the same,” Obi-Wan offers, before his mind swirls back into places that speak of lack and dig their barbs deep. “You always do pick the best things for Troopers.” Cody’s grin is knowing and not a little grateful for so small a thing.

FLO titters again, elbows on the counter and faceplate on her digits. “It’s all terrible hun,” she assures. “You ain’t coming here for _quality_.” Her servos whir and she sways on her wheel.

The kitchen is lit up bright, spilling gold across the counter to creep into long silvers along the floor, before finally fading to embracing gray at the edges. There’s comfort in the lit tables, anonymity in the dark. Familiarity in all of it.

The food, despite FLO’s protests, is always good. Dex might not be in for hours, but FLO’s not nearly a bad hand. Cody and Obi-Wan both know well how to eat what will keep you alive but is hardly palatable. They’ve never had to do that here.

“We trust you,” Cody chimes in and gives her that gorgeous, melting smile.

FLO buzzes her version of a sniff, lights her cheeks up in a flush, flicks a towel at him again, doesn’t miss. She’s a stronger being than Obi-Wan, to be able to resist that.

“Sweet talk won’t make the food better, sugar, but I can promise to pick you the best of what we got. You get your Jedi to eat this time. He can’t survive on tea.”

_Well!_

“I do manage to feed myself occasionally you know,” he grumbles as their erstwhile waitress cackles and wheels away. It’s a depressing retread of an identical conversation he’d had just this morning with Trapper and Wooley, the latter Obi-Wan was quite sure was there solely to make kicked-tooka eyes at him.

“And yet your reputation seems to be well-established across the galaxy,” Cody teases. “Jedi Master Kenobi, The Negotiator. Likes tea, needs feeding.”

“I will find out who wrote that manual, and I will have some very stern words for them.” He suspects Ahsoka. There’s a footnote that simply reads ‘TOO WEENIE TO EAT BUGS’ and the source is most certainly Anakin but he _must_ trust that the wording was the product of the young padawan in his care, rather than the ostensibly-adult Jedi Knight himself.

Cody’s comm chimes yet another received message that he seems determined to ignore. It’s a different tone this time, something a little jauntier than before that ticks annoyance at his brow. A brother then, which is different from a vod and different from vode in ways that Obi-Wan still has trouble grasping sometimes. “Well?” Cody taps idle fingers on the tabletop and very deliberately looks out the transpariplast windows. Laughter bubbles up unsummoned from Obi-Wan’s chest. “Ignoring them won’t make them go away-”

“That sounds like defeatist talk, General.”

“Oh is that so Commander? How churlish of me.”

“Indeed.”

It is perhaps the worst approximation of Obi-Wan’s own accent he’s heard since Anakin was very young. He’s laughed more with Cody than he has since his those days, he thinks. That alone is kindness he could not repay.

“Even more trouble could be brewing, wouldn’t you want to try for damage control?”

Cody sniffs. “Ponds will take whatever revenge he wants. And after a bomb like that he’ll sign off, watch the chaos roll in over the seas with a snack.”

“You’re so uncharitable to poor Ponds,” Obi-Wan says, just to needle him, just for that playfully sour look he affects that could no more hide his love for his brothers than his helmet can hide his soul from Obi-Wan.

“Somehow they all have you fooled,” Cody grouses, “even when they’re objectively, provably assholes.”

He’s muted his group alert after the tone became a continuous scream of alerts. If what Cody says is true and that little announcement was nothing more than a liberally creative version of facts, it is a masterful display of assholishness. Little wonder Mace gets on so well with his Commander.

“My crechemates would put tooth cleaning solutions in pastries if we were plotting revenge.”

“Or add notes to orders instructing Commanders to insult them whenever possible?”

This time it’s Obi-Wan’s turn to sniff with pretend indignation. “I would _never_ misuse resources like that.” Cody’s eyebrow is polite disbelief. “Vos deserves it,” Obi-Wan adds and does his best not to sound guilty.

FLO and the arrival of tea saves him from _that_ sarlaac pit.

Cody holds grudges the way he holds debts: close and unshakable.

Another chime, and before Obi-Wan can even think the words to prod at him Cody is shrugging out of his bracer.

He’s _shrugging out of his bracer_ and handing it over to Obi-Wan as though it was nothing more than formed plastoid. As though his only way of speaking to his brothers far flung wasn’t embedded in its chipsets.

“Have fun,” he says so awfully casually, as though there aren’t a Jedi and a droid more than capable of hearing how his heart thunders. “Just don’t turn on location or we’ll never get rid of him.”

Obi-Wan takes the offering in both hands, words abandoned. The comm flicks an arresting green. Cody’s complexion only mostly hides his flush.

“Right.” It’s less a word, more a clearing of throat. “Right, have fun.” He marches briskly in the direction of the toilets.

It’s long minutes later that Obi-Wan realizes he’s holding the bracer cradled softly to his chest. It’s very short seconds after that he realizes FLO has considerately lowered the volume of her snickering.

“Do Jedi accept commission?”

“I beg your pardon?”

There was once he thought of this place as Dex’s, and Dex’s waitresses weren’t even a second thought. Now though, he’s close enough to FLO for teasing, close enough to Hermione for tips in maintaining hair. Close enough to both to know they are following his and Cody’s development with slavish addiction.

FLO whirs and sways, her way of off-setting that inorganic stillness that bothers Vode more than they’d be willing to say. “When I publish my spicy romance novel, where should I send your cut?”

Obi-Wan flashes her a smile that makes her titter. “Well my dear I’m quite sure any similarity to myself would be coincidental, isn’t that the typical disclaimer to make?”

“Of course. And the adorable Commander making doe-eyes at your laugh wrinkles would be entirely my own imagination.”

Obi-Wan had once called someone ‘just a droid’ in this very establishment. He doesn’t even remember the context any more and he’s certain FLO’s long forgiven him. He’s decided to forgive himself for it too, but keep the memory as instruction. Droids feelings and imaginings are flashed in silica, but they’re no less real than his own.

“Then I’d say whatever you would think is appropriate you could forward to a charity and your conscience would be quite clear.”

“I’ll still save you a seat at the signing, Master Jedi,” FLO cackles, She flicks a towel and Obi-Wan gamely doesn’t dodge.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Strength. If this is your first time dabbling in this little universe of mine, know that this is an in-joke that started [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23407009). Back  
> 


End file.
